Lieutenant

by Lesli Richardson

  We were all reborn.

  We are all better people now.

  We are stronger, and we are going to make our state a better place.

  The limo pulls to a stop in front of the hotel and a uniformed trooper immediately steps in to open the door for us. Owen emerges first, followed by me, Carter right behind me. Normally I’d follow Carter, too, except I’m the lieutenant governor.

  Carter’s “just” Owen’s chief of staff.

  If only everyone knew the truth.

  Fortunately, there’s not a huge crowd outside the hotel, but Owen does want to work the rope line.

  I go with him. I can’t help but notice that Carter’s gaze is as intense and watchful as any of the troopers or county deputies in the security detail, studying the crowd, watchful for potential threats as he stays close to both of us. Once we reach the door, Carter rests his right hand in the small of my back, pats Owen’s shoulder with his left, and obviously guides me into position to take Owen’s arm before Carter falls in a step behind us.

  Owen smiles down at me. “Shall we, Ma’am?”

  One small capitulation Carter allows, because no one but the three of us knows that Owen means that with a capital M.

  I smile back. “Let’s do this, Governor Taylor.”

  Dray is waiting for us inside the lobby. Normally, it’s easier—and safer logistically—to take a VIP in through a service entrance. But tonight is a celebration, and we’ve earned this little bit of pomp.

  When we enter the lobby, the people inside erupt in cheers and applause, and both Owen and I smile and wave, looking great for the cameras, I’m sure.

  I know Carter is still shadowing us, watching. This is the other reason he wanted me walking with Owen, so he could be more watchful, more ready.

  Since the day of the school shooting, I’ve seen a far darker side of my husband emerge. More nightmares, more sullen moods from time to time. The wary, combat-hardened sergeant instead of the polished attorney.

  What happened that day at the school a couple of months ago reminds Carter too much of his time in the Army, when he was on deployment, and the day he almost died.

  But even more importantly, Owen still has no idea how close he really came to death that day in the school. It’s a lesson Carter will not forget, and refuses to stop beating himself up over. He’d let his guard down that day, thought they were safe. Had he not shoved Owen to the floor and dragged him around behind the counter in the school’s office, it could have been Owen who got shot next. He’d been standing in front of the counter, but directly in line with the opening to the hallway where the deputy was shot.

  The shot that killed the deputy would have, no doubt, hit Owen first.

  Sure, one can make a lot of arguments against that line of thinking. Except Carter’s convinced of it, and that’s all that matters. It’s his mind that frantically races, worried about Owen, about me.

  It’s why Carter insists I will have a security detail.

  I know it’s also why, when last Friday night I tried asking him one more time to loosen that requirement, he grabbed me by the arm, dragged me into our bedroom, and paddled my ass red without speaking a single word. He didn’t stop until I tearfully apologized and promised to never again ask for him to cancel my security detail.

  Then he pulled me into his arms, tightly holding me, silent sobs wracking him as his waking and sleeping nightmares fought for control of his soul, until I was the one holding him and he fell asleep in my arms.

  His first halfway decent night’s sleep in weeks.

  He never sleeps well when the two of us aren’t in bed with him, but especially when Owen isn’t, and Owen had to be in Tampa for interviews that night and stayed over in the Brandon house.

  I’m afraid what might happen to Carter if there’s ever another close call. I don’t honestly think he could handle losing either of us. I think it would completely snap his sanity.

  But that’s fair, because I don’t think I could handle losing either of them. From the first day I met them, I sensed we were all meant to be together, even though, at the time, I didn’t realize that was going to be literally.

  All because of Carter and his master plan.

  Or maybe I should call that his Master plan.

  Chapter Three

  Then

  I think I fell in love with Carter first. But he was older, off-limits.

  Or, he should’ve been.

  And then I fell in love with Owen. How could I ever choose between them?

  That’s when Carter made me a promise—that I wouldn’t have to choose.

  Ever.

  All I had to do was trust him.

  When I look at the bigger picture, I honestly think I got the best deal. Owen likely never would have run for office—any office—if it hadn’t been for Carter. What we’ve accomplished was never part of Carter’s original plan that he secretly formulated before they met me.

  Not really.

  Carter never would have plunged into the world of Florida politics the way he did if it hadn’t been for me.

  Yes, Owen had a wishful-thinking kind of dream about maybe being governor, one day. But even he’ll tell you he considered it a pipe dream. That he didn’t have the drive or determination to go for it, even though he longed to help people.

  Carter, however, saw through him, and realized he absolutely could get Owen elected, once they met me.

  I wanted to be governor, and Carter saw that immediately. Not like I hid it. But he also knew it would be easier to get Owen elected first.

  Carter sacrificed everything for that goal, for me. He sacrificed being able to love his boy and his pet in relative obscurity. All because he knew Owen’s biggest wish was to make me happy.

  Could we not have pushed Owen to run, and ended up staying in the private sector? Sure.

  Except Carter also knew I’d never be happy settling for a simpler life like that, even though, had Carter asked it of me, I probably would have agreed to it by the time I realized how much I loved these two men.

  Owen was content to be carried along in my current, following me and Carter in our wakes. As a result he’s now governor, but he’s lost all privacy, lost the ability to flop into bed with us at the end of a long day, or to curl up with us on the couch and unplug, with his head in my lap and his feet in Carter’s and simply…be.

  Lost the peace of mind coming home every day gave him.

  He’s lost the freedom to be Carter’s boy—and mine—whenever he wants.

  Lost the ability to speak or even live freely, in that he now has to worry if someone’s got a cell phone camera pointed at him any time he’s outside the confines of his private residence, or ours.

  No more runs to our favorite tap house in Hyde Park to have flights of craft beers, drinking to the point we’re all giggling and laughing before we take an Uber home, pawing at each other in the backseat the whole way, Carter pulling each of us in for long, deep kisses without a care who sees us.

  No more intimate dinners for three at our favorite steakhouse, tucked in the corner booth we love and able to play footsies with each other.

  No more casual strolls through the grocery store together with us laughing and joking about nonstandard uses for phallic-shaped foods.

  They’ve done all of this for me, with no guarantee we’ll be able to make it all the way. I have no illusions, either. If I don’t get elected the first time I run for governor, I’m not going to make some pitiful repeat attempt in four years. That’s just pathetic. I’ll have already moved on to bigger and better things by then.

  These two men love me, and love each other. Maybe some people would rightfully criticize Carter for how and why he brought the three of us together, but you’ll never hear me or Owen complain about that.

  What we have is perfect, perfectly us, and perfect for us.

  But back then we were kids, and we laughed and loved and planned.

  And I remember the day I first laid eyes on the two of the
m as if it were yesterday.

  * * * *

  When I wake up that Monday morning for my first day of college, I’m filled with excitement. I have a load of classes I’m eager to dig in to, starting with Florida Politics & Government. Daddy warned me over the phone last night to try to keep an open mind, listen, and learn, even when I know more than an instructor.

  In some of these classes I’m already sure, based upon the curriculum and syllabus, that I know more than the instructor.

  I start my first year at USF Tampa a year and a half ahead with credits earned through dual-enrollment. The only reason I don’t already have a two-year college degree is that I spent my freshman year of high school in Tallahassee, working as an intern to state senator Marlene Samuels. The sixty-two-year-old—at that time—had energy and enthusiasm to spare, and she ran my ass into the ground.

  I learned so much from her. It was her last year in office, and she was the reason I knew I could run for office. It wouldn’t surprise me if her daughter, ShaeLynn—who’s only two years older than me and who was, at that time, already in her third year of college and studying to be an attorney—one day ends up as President. ShaeLynn’s a force of nature, someone even more driven than I am.

  I know that I’m lucky with my lot in life. Blessed, even.

  Doesn’t mean I won’t still work my ass off.

  Daddy might have money but, as he cautioned me countless times, it doesn’t mean I can be lazy. I fully understand why he snagged me the internship with Senator Samuels. It was well worth having to take classes remotely, doing schoolwork in the evenings and on the weekends, so I could spend my weekdays studying at the feet of Marlene Samuels.

  You cannot pay for that kind of education.

  Even though Senator Samuels is a Democrat, Daddy highly respects her and has always spoken well of her, and cautioned me to work my ass off to impress her.

  I did, and she wrote me a glowing letter of recommendation for my college application packet.

  I’m determined to make straight As and make a name for myself so I don’t spend the rest of my life known as Benchley Evans’ daughter.

  I’m Susa Evans, and I’m going to make sure people know who I am because of what I’ve done, not because of who Daddy is.

  Momma had felt nervous about me living in Tampa by myself this year and not staying at their home in Brandon, but Daddy knows I can handle myself. I’m my father’s daughter in more than one way.

  Driving to campus every day will be annoying. I’d wanted to live in a dorm this year, but Daddy nixed that. The politician-to-be knows he’s right, but I’m still mad at him for overruling me. Buying me a house was his way of trying to compromise and soothe my anger over him putting his foot down about me not living in a dorm.

  I’m also annoyed because it means I’ll have to figure out how to deal with my ex-boyfriend, Kendall. That storm will no doubt blow up tonight, if the increasingly desperate and pleading tone of his multiple e-mails are any indication. I broke up with him right before he departed on a trip to France with his family, and he’s due back in town tonight. If I was living in a dorm, I’d have all the backup I could handle.

  Douchey timing on my part, I know, but it was calculated. I knew had I done it sooner, I never would have gotten rid of him. He would have been whiny and clingy and apologizing, maybe even cancelled going on the trip, and I needed a few weeks away from him to gain some extra perspective.

  Because while he was good in the sack, that was about all he was good for. He damn sure wasn’t someone good for my future. Especially not with the load of debt his family’s carrying, something I didn’t know about until I ran a full background check on him just before I broke up with him. Having him out of my hair has been a relief, meaning I definitely don’t want him back.

  The last thing I want to do is call Daddy and ask him to talk to Kendall’s parents for me, to get Kendall to leave me alone.

  That would be like admitting I can’t adult.

  Scratch that. Calling Daddy is the second-to-last thing I want to do. Calling the cops is the last thing I want to do, because I know damn well it’d get back to Daddy anyway.

  I’m still mulling all this over when I walk in that classroom Monday morning, where I immediately spot the two hotties sitting in the far back corner. Hard to miss them, from how they’ve moved their desks. The one guy looks a little older, intense brown eyes with smoky depths and a watchful gaze that sees everything. Brown hair, gorgeous. He’s literally backed his desk into the corner, angled out toward the room.

  The first thought that flits through my mind when I look at him is former military.

  He has the same look on his face worn by some of the law enforcement officers I met in Tallahassee who work security for the capitol building. Officers who were former military, and who saw active combat during their in-country deployments.

  They didn’t like having their backs to a room or a door, either.

  I’m immediately drawn to the guy and hope I’ve just found the answer to my Kendall problem. With my luck, this guy’s probably got a clingy, whiny girlfriend who will stomp her feet and refuse to let him do what I ask of him tonight.

  But it’s either take a chance and ask, or sac up and face Kendall on my own. Otherwise, I’m going to have to hang around the damn library until about midnight and hope Kendall hasn’t parked himself at my front door. I refuse to call law enforcement except as a last resort, because I know damn well it’ll get back to Daddy.

  Then good-bye living on my own. I know I’m nineteen, but he and Momma would basically move in with me at that point. Or, at least Momma would.

  That would mean good-bye any sex life I might hope to have.

  The guy seated next to Brown Eyes appears to be a little taller, most likely a little younger, too, from the lack of lines on his face and around his eyes. Gorgeous green eyes and blond hair, super hot. He’s angled his desk, too, and sits to the right of Brown Eyes.

  Still, it’s Brown Eyes I want to get to know better.

  A lot better.

  I decide to go for broke, since I don’t see a ring on either of their hands. I walk over, smiling as I do. “Mind if I sit here?” I point to the desk that technically now sits to Brown Eyes’ left.

  Brown Eyes might think he’s looking pretty casual when he shrugs, but I’ve already spotted the flash of resentment, gone almost before it’s there.

  Green Eyes is practically drooling, bless his heart. He’s adorable.

  I wonder if Brown Eyes is gay and lusting after Green Eyes.

  “Thanks,” I say. Then I proceed to move my desk, too, to match how they arranged theirs, and I sit and focus on my textbook.

  Or, I pretend to.

  As I listen to them resume their discussion about cooking, of all things, I give thanks. It sounds like they’re both single, probably dorm roommates, and Brown Eyes is going to teach Green Eyes how to prepare a Greek dish tonight, one that I can cook in my sleep.

  I finally make my move a few minutes later. Greek food is something I can cook the hell out of, fortunately, and I offer to let them come cook at my house tonight, I’ll provide the kitchen and groceries, and all they have to do is scare Kendall off.

  Thankfully, they accept.

  It’s not until the end of the class when I actually learn their names. I’m even more convinced by Carter’s mannerisms that he’s former military, even though he hasn’t specifically said that. It’s painfully obvious Owen is already smitten with me, which is adorable and not exactly a bad thing.

  But it’s Carter I’m really drawn to. He wears a dark air of danger—and I know that sounds stupid, but it’s him.

  Sure, I suppose if Carter turns out to be gay or something, I’d definitely love to give Owen a chance. I might have turned nineteen just last week, but it’s not my first rodeo. I’ve had a couple of boyfriends besides Kendall.

  I’m positive one of the reasons I’m having trouble getting rid of Kendall isn’t his love of me so muc
h as it’s his love of my money.

  Carter strikes me as exactly the kind of guy I need to scare Kendall off for good.

  As I head to my next class, I’m finally feeling relaxed about the confrontation with Kendall that I’m certain is coming tonight.

  I also didn’t realize until much later that my world had literally shifted on its axis, setting me on my course for the future.

  * * * *

  I almost feel sorry for Kendall when he shows up and Carter handles him.

  Almost.

  I can tell Owen isn’t great with physical confrontations, but he’s doing a fantastic job standing there behind Carter and looking downright imposing.

  Owen’s also big enough for me to hide behind while Carter damn near breaks Kendall’s arm in the door when the dumbass tries to force his way inside.

  At least tonight I don’t sense the resentment I thought I spotted in Carter’s expression earlier. Tonight, when I hug Carter after Kendall’s departure, Carter returns my strong hug with one of his own that lasts even longer than I hoped it might.

  It leaves me feeling gooey all over.

  This man is a warrior. I mean, I know now, from our conversations, that my earlier guess about him being former military was correct.

  But then when I hug Owen…

  Sigh. Perfection.

  Thank god Daddy and Momma never scrolled through my Kindle. It’s full of e-books featuring a heroine with two—or more—guys who are strong enough to take care of her and keep her safe.

  This would be a ready-made dream come true, with the two of them.

  When we sit down together to eat dinner at my tiny IKEA table that only seats four—the men are my first real guests, because Daddy and Momma have been up in Tallahassee—it feels perfect then, too.